


Mutual Exclusivity

by Chryseida



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Awkwardness, F.R.I.E.N.D.S., Gen, Humor, Innuendo, Meddling, Metaphors, Oblivious Thorin, Rivendell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 16:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chryseida/pseuds/Chryseida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How is Bilbo supposed to grow if Thorin won’t let him blow?!</p><p>Utter nostalgic nonsense, complete with a nice dosage of clichéd awkwardness, inspired by this exchange:</p><p>Monica: Rachel you have to read this book. It's called "Be Your Own Windkeeper". It's about how women need to become more empowered.<br/>Phoebe: Yeah and there's wind and the wind can make us Goddesses. But you know who takes out wind? Men, they just take it all the time, cause they are the lightning bearers.<br/>Rachel: Well that sounds kinda cool, kinda like The Hobbit.<br/>(<i>F.R.I.E.N.D.S.</i>, 2.19)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mutual Exclusivity

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, fellow Hobbit fans *waves gingerly* … I wrote this oneshot a year and a half ago, but I never got round to publishing it before I decided to leave the Internet for a while. This was my first and only foray into _The Hobbit_ , but it was by no means the first fan fiction I had ever written; in fact I think it was the last. I had completely forgotten about it, but I found it while going through some of my old files. It made me laugh, so I thought I would share it, just in case it makes anyone else laugh, because everyone is in need of some uplifting nonsense at the moment.
> 
> Anyway, I should explain what this is about. One day, I was watching reruns of FRIENDS and voilà, ‘The Hobbit’ (see the summary above). The part of the episode that inspired the title is this part (I didn’t make that up, either):
> 
> Rachel: Why do we always have to do everything according to your time table?  
> Ross: Actually, it's the movie theatre that has the time schedule. So you don't miss the beginning.  
> Rachel: No, see this isn't about the movie theatre. This is about you stealing my wind.  
> Monica: You go girl! I can't pull that off, can I?  
> Ross: Excuse me? Your... your... your wind?  
> Rachel: Yes, my wind. How do you expect me to grow if you won't let me blow?  
> Ross: You... you know I... I don't have a... have a problem with that.
> 
> Before I knew it, I had written this. I hope you enjoy!

‘Argh!’ Bilbo stamped his foot. ‘You… you just won’t let me grow!’ he protested in frustration. ‘It’s not my fault Gandalf decided to cast me as a thief! I’m trying to make the best of it! But you just keep stealing my wind! You steal everyone’s wind!’

There was a pause, broken only by Kili’s muffled giggling and what sounded like a growl, but was probably (hopefully) a chuckle, from Dwalin. Thorin looked as though he was filing this rant away in a mental file marked ‘Reasons hobbits are odd and I should not have brought one with me’. ‘Stealing your wind,’ the dwarf repeated sullenly. ‘And how might I be doing that, Master Baggins?’ His words were sharp, like a warg’s teeth.

‘Because you’re a lightning bearer!’ Bilbo snapped. ‘You think we all have to sing to your tune! You just waltz around giving orders and zapping anyone who might threaten your narrow-minded, self-aggrandising ego!’

‘Ouch,’ breathed Fili appreciatively.

‘What does “sell for grand eyes” mean?’ Kili muttered to Balin.

‘I am the leader of this company,’ Thorin began shortly, his shock clearly the only thing restraining his anger.

That was a good point. But it didn’t disprove Bilbo’s, the hobbit reminded himself, and he gathered his courage and declared, ‘Yes, and a good leader works on the strengths of _all_ of his company, not just those that suit him! I’m a hobbit! I’m not a dwarf! That’s why Gandalf picked me to be your burglar! A dwarf couldn’t do my job; it has to be a hobbit! And that hobbit happens to be me! I have to grow into myself!’ he declared confidently, remembering Balin’s advice.

‘You suggest we let you fend for yourself?’ Thorin asked. It was only partially sarcastic; he was evidently unsure what Bilbo was talking about.

This aggravated the hobbit even more. ‘This isn’t about me fending for myself! It’s about you stealing my wind! How am I supposed to grow,’ he demanded deliberately, ‘if _you_ won’t let me blow?!’

There was a short pause, then the subsequent cacophony of sound effects was something like a half-hearted, out-of-tune version of a Shire party fanfare. Fili spat his wine everywhere (party poppers blown by little Hobbits without enough puff). Kili let out a strangled squeal that turned into a spluttering fit (failed fireworks). Dwalin barked out a single laugh and banged the table (a rather ineffective cymbal crash). Only Balin remained silent, a look of mildly horrified anticipation in his twinkling eyes, but even he was smiling up to his ears.

‘This isn’t funny,’ Bilbo huffed at them. ‘He needs to be told to stop stealing people’s wind.’

‘Yeah, you go, Bilbo!’ Kili whooped, punching the air. He glanced quickly at his brother. ‘No?’

‘No,’ said Fili.

Thorin, utterly bewildered, was looking slowly and blankly between his nephews and the furious hobbit standing in front of him. He seemed torn between irritation that Fili and Kili were apparently siding with Bilbo, and confusion as to what the dispute was in the first place. He cleared his throat and said, ‘I hardly wish to prevent you from proving yourself, Master Baggins. In fact I’ve been waiting for you to do just that. As far as I’m concerned, you can…’ He looked the hobbit over with a somewhat pained expression, ‘blow as much as you like.’

This time, even Balin couldn’t control his laughter. The older dwarf covered his face while the other three burst into guffaws. Bilbo risked a glance at Thorin, who unfortunately happened to have the same idea at the same time, but then, to his shock, they shared a look of confusion, rather than the usual setup of suspicion on Thorin’s part and begrudging resignation on Bilbo’s.

‘Does someone want to tell us what’s so funny?’ Bilbo asked, his courage a little more pronounced now that he knew Thorin was as ignorant as he was. ‘I don’t know why _you’re_ laughing,’ he said to Balin, putting on his best wounded diplomat voice; ‘you encouraged me to speak to him!’

Balin and Dwalin at least looked slightly apologetic, and entered into a conversation in glare-speak with an incredulous Thorin; Fili and Kili only carried on laughing. Bilbo was about to grab their wine from them and throw it in their grinning faces when someone knocked into him from behind. He whirled around, caught off guard, but it was only Ori, who looked absolutely terrified.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mister Baggins!’ he gushed, slurring on his words. ‘I’m not—’ He hiccoughed, ‘I’m a bit out of sorts.’ He looked over Bilbo’s shoulder and hiccoughed again. ‘What… what’s going on?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine, Ori,’ Bilbo sighed, aiming a glare at the dwarves. ‘I’m fed up of your esteemed _king_ treating me as though _I_ invited myself along on this journey. Apparently there’s a saying among the Men about “stealing someone’s wind” if you keep putting a damper on everything they try to do, so I told him there’s no way I’m going to grow if he doesn’t let me blow—’ The words seemed awkward now, and he had to slow down his speech so he didn’t mangle them into ‘growing to blow’ or something equally ridiculous, which wasn’t helped by the dwarves positively _crying_ with laughter in the background, ‘—and for some reason—’

‘You said _what_?!’ Ori shrieked. This outburst provoked a particularly extravagant hiccough, and he clapped his hands over his mouth, but removed them temporarily to clarify, incredulous, ‘To _Thorin_?’

Bilbo idly wondered if he’d broken a dwarf taboo, but Ori was gazing at him with something akin to admiration, which Bilbo would hardly expect from the scholarly young dwarf, even when drunk, if he’d done something wrong.

Not to mention Thorin’s obliviousness. ‘What in Durin’s name are you two useless urchins laughing at?’ he was currently demanding.

‘By Mahal, Thorin, you’re not half thick,’ lamented Dwalin.

The hobbit reflected on what he’d said. _How am I supposed to grow if you don’t let me blow?_ There was nothing offensive in that, Bilbo determined. He certainly hadn’t insulted Thorin, which would perhaps have accounted for the dwarves’ laughter; he had been criticising _Thorin’s_ disparaging attitude towards _him_. Surely standing up to one’s superiors when they were being unfair was not so unheard of in dwarf society to be this funny. Perhaps the metaphor _was_ a bit odd; anyone who only heard it literally would probably have thought he’d —

Oh.

Bilbo felt himself flush from the hairs on his feet to the pointed tips of his ears. To Thorin, indeed. How could he have said something so abjectly embarrassing to _Thorin_? To _Thorin_! Promptly forgetting the fact that his statement had passed right over Thorin’s head, Bilbo turned around and started stammering to the startled dwarf king, ‘I am so, so, sorry, I didn’t mean — I, of course, that is — I’m not saying — you don’t have to — oh, botheration!’ He rounded on the others. ‘ _Why_ did you not tell me how that _sounded_?’

‘We didn’t expect you to phrase it quite like that, laddie,’ Balin said sympathetically.

Bilbo wrenched his furious glare away from them and said to Thorin, ‘I’m terribly sorry.’

Thorin stared at him, lips slightly parted, which Bilbo interpreted as the equivalent of his own jaw dropping. He finally seemed to realise, for he closed his mouth, shook himself and said gruffly, ‘Pray don’t mention it.’

Bilbo could hardly not mention it. ‘I am sorry, though,’ he rambled on. Thorin raised an eyebrow, and Bilbo, cringing, clarified, ‘I won’t be doing any of that sort of… that sort of… blowing any time soon. Just forget I said anything.’

‘Reeee- _ject_ -ed!’ Kili whistled. ‘That’s gotta _stiiiing_! Looks like you won’t be doing any zapping with your lightning bolt anymore, either, Uncle!’

‘What?’ Thorin looked lost, like a child who’d accepted that he’d done something wrong but truly didn’t understand what it was. Bilbo wouldn’t have thought such an expression featured in the dwarf’s repertoire. He spread his hands in exasperation, and then, turning to Bilbo (much to the hobbit’s horror), he said in a stern voice (which Bilbo took to be Thorin’s attempt at civility; it was only because he was so worked up that he realised Thorin was not angry with _him_ — not yet, anyway), ‘My nephews are incapable of taking anything seriously. If you have a serious problem, Master Baggins, please do ignore them and elaborate. When exactly is it that I’ve “zapped” you with my “lightning bolt”?’

‘Oh, no,’ Balin groaned. Dwalin made a sound that was almost a cackle.

‘Are you joking?’ Bilbo spluttered. How stone-witted could one dwarf _be_?

‘Don’t answer him, Bilbo!’ squeaked Fili and Kili. ‘We don’t want to know!’

‘That’s enough!’ Bilbo stormed up to the table with his hands on his hips. The brothers reminded him of rabbits caught in the path of Holman Greenhand’s wheelbarrow. ‘That is quite enough! It’s all very well laughing at someone saying something utterly ridiculous entirely by accident—’

Dwalin snorted.

‘—but you shouldn’t make fun of your uncle like that! Or any of the adults who are looking after you on this godforsaken expedition! It’s disrespectful, that’s what it is!’

‘It was Balin’s idea, not ours,’ Fili pointed out.

‘And you’re the one who went on about him zapping people with his lightning bolt,’ argued Kili meekly.

‘You know what I meant!’ Bilbo stammered. ‘If you didn’t have your minds in the gutter - that goes for you too, Ori, I’m surprised at you—’

‘ _Ori_?’ Dwalin strained to look around Bilbo, who felt, rather than saw, the younger dwarf shrink behind him.

‘Our minds aren’t in the gutter, Bilbo,’ Fili put in, half defensive and half mischievous, ‘it’s just you two who are complete numbskulls.’

‘Numbskulls?’ Apparently Thorin wasn’t so obtuse that he didn’t recognise a bald, single-word insult when he heard one. He raised a dangerously black eyebrow at his nephews. ‘Numbskulls?’ he echoed again. ‘Are you calling me a numbskull? _You_ pair of simpletons? You don’t even know what day it is! And as for Master Baggins,’ here he glanced at Bilbo, a little suspiciously but not with as much open hostility as he usually did, ‘we have Gandalf’s assurance of his cleverness, and while I have my doubts as to the healthiness of the wizard’s pipe habit, the amount of books in Master Baggins’ house attests to the fact that he is far better read than either of you two, as you would have noticed if you had at least been paying attention to your surroundings during our first meeting, instead of naively plotting heroic deeds — which, moreover, you would be better equipped to imagine if you’d studied your history as well as befits princes.’

Balin nodded his head in satisfaction as though a job had been well done, his shoulders sagging in relief. Bilbo gawped, both at the fact that Thorin had said something remotely positive about him, and at the fact that when the dwarf spoke at length, rather than his usual biting instructions and reprimands, he was so _wordy_. What had happened to him? Was Thorin nervous? Or was it the wine? Holman had always said that alcohol removed inhibitions…

‘Zap,’ said Dwalin lazily.

What was _that_ supposed to mean?!

‘ _Dwalin_ , by _Mahal_!’ gasped Balin; Dwalin gestured his innocence while Fili and Kili laughed so hard that Kili leaned backwards and somehow managed to slide between the bench and the table, banging his head on the wood above him and flopping into a useless heap of giggles, with Fili twisting into unnatural positions to get a good look to remind his brother later.

‘You’re encouraging them!’ Thorin roared at Dwalin. ‘Though I still haven’t grasped the point —now what? What _is_ so funny?’

That was it. The situation was becoming so excruciating — he wasn’t exactly on the ball himself, but how drunk must Thorin be? — that a nervous laugh escaped Bilbo, causing Thorin to snap his gaze back to him sharply, silencing him.

‘Er, Thorin, Your Majesty, sir,’ piped up Ori, whose presence Bilbo had forgotten, ‘I think they are laughing because what Mister Baggins said to you sounded like one of those in-your-end things.’

Good old Ori, helpful and polite as ever. Bilbo mewed in despair. Luckily, Fili and Kili were preoccupied with trying to get the latter out from under the table, and couldn’t make this any worse. Thorin was staring at Ori as though he had no idea who he was; all verbosity was abandoned. ‘In-your — what?’

‘It’s _innuendo_ , lad,’ called Dwalin kindly.

‘Innuendo?!’ Thorin’s scandalised squawk put Fili and Kili’s to shame. Ori’s only response was an apologetic hiccough.

‘You said he could blow as much as he liked,’ Dwalin chirped. Bilbo wished he’d go back to the persona of an axe-murderer.

‘Yes?’ Thorin folded his arms defensively, and Bilbo sensed that doom was nigh. ‘He _can_ blow as much as he likes,’ the dwarf persisted, clueless; ‘he was saying that I stop him blowing, which I — ’

 _Finally,_ Bilbo wanted to say.

Thorin straightened up and his face tensed into its usual regal, expressionless mask. Only the slight trembling of his chin, a hint of blood seeping into his cheeks, and the daggers he was glaring at Dwalin’s clown-worthily creepy smile gave any indication of how embarrassed he obviously was. Far from making Bilbo feel better - at least he wasn’t the only one who felt royally humiliated, after all - this only increased the hobbit’s shame, as though he was carrying both his _and_ Thorin’s. Dwalin cocked an eyebrow in expectation. Balin was wincing, looking alternately on Thorin with fond pity, and on Bilbo with a smile that offered profuse apologies but couldn’t quite hide the fact that he, too, found the hobbit’s predicament amusing.

‘Oh dear,’ hiccoughed Ori.

‘Get up, Kili, you peabrain, he’s finally got it,’ Fili whispered (with the usual megaphonic quality of a drunken whisper) under the table.

‘You,’ Thorin growled at Dwalin, ‘when we reclaim Erebor, I will skin off every single one of your tattoos. Balin,’ he said more respectfully, ‘I can’t be doing with the hobbit growing… becoming any more squeamish than he is already. Ori, please accept my most profound regret that my nephews and supposedly trusted advisors subjected you to this debacle. As for you two,’ he finished, seething at his nephews, ‘you are not the only ones who can invent ridiculous metaphors. You’ll have your mother’s _thundering_ to be worrying about if you don’t mind your own business.’

‘What?’ exclaimed Bilbo, Fili, Kili, Dwalin and Balin all at once; Ori hiccoughed.

Thorin turned to Bilbo. ‘And you—’

‘You’re missing the point,’ Bilbo blurted. ‘Are you going to stop stealing my wind?’ he asked, throwing all shame and caution quite squarely _into_ the wind as he did so.

Thorin blinked. Then he smiled mirthlessly, his expression otherwise remaining the same. His cheeks might have gone a little pinker, but then again, it could have been the light. ‘Master Baggins, as I said, you can blow as much as you like, as long as I am able to direct my… thunderbolt as I see fit. I do not see why the two have to be mutually exclusive.’

Bilbo very much wanted to throw himself off the balcony, but respectable hobbits looked before leaping, and it was too dark. He could see Thorin well enough in the candlelight, though, and the dwarf hadn’t killed him yet. ‘Very well then,’ he said simply.

Thorin nodded curtly at him before shooting one last glare at Dwalin and storming into Elrond’s palace.

Bilbo turned back to the table in a daze. Fili had retrieved his brother and both were sitting, as good as gold, with their hands over their mouths. Ori had sunken onto the floor and was holding his nose in an attempt to get rid of his hiccoughs. Dwalin and Balin were sharing a look.

‘I’m going to bed,’ he said weakly. Before they could say anything else, he too retreated inside, ashamed to note that he opted for the opposite direction to Thorin, even though it meant a longer walk back to his room. Thorin might now know that Bilbo thought him an arrogant bossy-boots but that was hardly going to make the dwarf dislike him any less.

‘He looked a bit down in the dumps,’ Fili ventured, reassuringly squeezing Kili’s shoulder, for his brother looked guilty (for embarrassing Bilbo) and more than a little scared (of his uncle).

‘That didn’t go as expected,’ Balin admitted, ‘but none of us could have foreseen it.’

‘I think it went better than expected,’ stated Dwalin. ‘It’ll have done them the world of good.’

Kili looked anxiously, but somewhat accusingly, around the small circle of dwarves. ‘I can’t believe you all went with that wind and lightning thing,’ he said churlishly. ‘I’ve never made up anything so _stupid_ in my life.’

‘Don’t be so hard on yourself; there was that time—’ Fili began, but a look from Balin silenced him.

‘Actually, Kili,’ said a voice from the shadows, ‘the metaphor was not without merit, not at all. It was, however, applied in the wrong way, perhaps. Nothing to worry about. It is better to let them figure out the right way on their own.’

Gandalf, preceded by his infamous smoke circles, emerged slowly from nowhere, as if he had all the time in the world and had not just scared the wits out of five dwarves. The wizard smirked down at them, and although far from intimidated, even Balin and Dwalin looked apprehensive as to what he was going to say.

‘What are lightning and wind but fire and air?’ Gandalf asked magnanimously.

‘Don’t get philosophical with us, wizard,’ growled Dwalin. ‘The hobbit’s gone. He’s the one good for all that nonsense.’

‘Now you’re just making me feel even more stupid, because I don’t know what you’re on about,’ grumbled Kili slowly.

‘Hey, at least you managed to make yourself clearer than a wizard!’ Fili consoled him.

‘I think it’s in wizards’ business _not_ to be clear, boys,’ remarked Balin, staring at Gandalf expectantly.

‘I get it!’ exclaimed Ori.

Five gazes, four shocked and one utterly unsurprised, focused on the youngest dwarf.

Ori sat up nervously and took a deep breath. Then he smiled. ‘Fire needs air to burn, doesn’t it?’

**Author's Note:**

> The reason I made Thorin so verbose is because I really loved the parts in the book that said Thorin would go on and on and on and on if given the chance. He seems more saturnine in the films, and while I adore his portrayal in every way (although I am disappointed with the lack of harp), I took the opportunity to bring out that rambling, bookish side of him a bit more, the side that showed considerable common ground with Bilbo. I am still upset that they took out the fireflies scene, because while Thorin and Bilbo’s relationship didn’t strike me as very remarkable in the book, I always remembered that they were both adventurous children who yearned for elsewhere.
> 
> I am going to go and hide away in my Hobbit hole now. If you enjoyed this frivolity so much that you’d like to encourage me to write some more, I just got a blog so come over and talk to me at http://astynomi.tumblr.com (I tag ‘botfa spoilers’)
> 
> PS: For those of you who have seen BotFA, as far as I am concerned, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jRJMmCyCBZ4) happened (up to 1:10 on the screen, in my head after that). (DON’T click if you haven’t seen the film!!) 
> 
> Merry Christmas.


End file.
